


Supplicant

by Dreamin



Series: 366 Sherlolly fics & ficlets [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Sherlock and Molly talk about Sherlock's past.





	Supplicant

**Author's Note:**

> For the September 11th prompt -- "I don't remember."

Molly got home just before sunset. Grateful that she had already taken a shower at Bart’s, she went straight to her bedroom and tried to find something appropriate to wear. Eventually, she settled on jeans and her coziest jumper, the one that always made her feel like she was wrapped up in a hug. By the time she was redressed and putting on her cat slippers, it was a half-hour after sunset and there was no sign of Sherlock.

_Where is he? I thought he’d be here by now._ She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. After feeding Toby and making tea once the kettle had boiled, Molly was really starting to wonder where he was.

“Molly?” came his voice from the bedroom.

She raised an eyebrow. _He expected to find me in there?_ “In the kitchen,” she called out.

Sherlock walked into the kitchen looking like Molly had never seen him. He wore the same grey suit as always, but this time his cheeks were flushed, his curls were disheveled, and he had more than the usual number of shirt buttons undone, not that Molly was complaining.

“Sherlock, are you alright?” she asked gently. _Maybe he’s ill. Can the Man in the Moon get sick?_

“What?” he asked, surprised. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Well, I thought you’d be here at sunset, that was almost an hour ago, your cheeks are red, your hair’s a mess, and you missed a couple more buttons.”

If anything, his cheeks turned redder. “I … erm … overslept so I got dressed in a hurry.”

She gently took his hand. “You don’t need to lie, Sherlock.”

“I do when the truth is embarrassing.” He looked down at their joined hands. _Her hand fits perfectly in mine._

Molly smiled a bit. “What could you possibly be embarrassed about?”

“I feel the same emotions as you, Molly – fear, happiness, sadness, embarrassment.”

“What about love and desire?” she asked, infinitely curious.

_If you only knew._ “Of course.”

Molly nodded then picked up the teacups and gave him one. “C’mon, we have a lot to talk about.” She led him to the sofa in the sitting room and they sat down.

Sherlock didn’t trust himself to sit too close. Images from the dream kept running through his head and he was certain he’d grab Molly and kiss her hard if she touched him again.

She smiled a bit as she sipped her tea. “Children take so much on faith – I never thought to ask you questions about your life.”

He smiled back, allowing himself to relax. “But now you’re curious?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she said, grinning.

Sherlock chuckled. “Alright, ask.”

“I’ve done some reading about the Man in the Moon. Were you punished for something you did on Earth?”

His face fell. “Starting with the hard questions, I see.” Sherlock sighed heavily. “Yes, but it’s been so long that I don’t remember what I did. I don’t remember anything of my life before I became the Man in the Moon, even my name. ‘Sherlock’ was something one of the other moon people called me as a joke – the name means ‘blond hair.’ It stuck and now it’s the only name I know.”

She took his hand again and squeezed it gently. “Sherlock, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he said softly. “Since I don’t remember, I don’t miss the life I had. What bothers me is not knowing what sin I committed. It must have been very grave for me to be sentenced to an eternity in exile. To know that I was capable of some atrocity scares me.”

“But you must have changed,” she said gently. “You can’t be the same person now that you were then.” _I wouldn’t love you if you were. Wait, love? Where’d that come from?_

“Who do people think I was?”

“Cain, Pontius Pilate, a few others.”

He shook his head a bit. “I know Cain and Pilate’s names and I know their stories, but neither of them feels like they were mine. I could be wrong, of course. It’s been so long that hearing my own name wouldn’t jar my memory.”

“How long have you been on the moon?”

“Thousands of years.”

She stared at him then shook her head. “Then you could have been either of them, or anyone, really. Are you sure you were punished?”

Sherlock nodded. “That’s the one thing that has stayed with me. In time, I might forget that too.”

“What exactly do you do up there?”

“My main role is to observe mankind, but I can interfere when I need to.”

“Interfere? How?”

He smiled a bit and Molly saw a twinkle in his eye. “I can influence people, just enough to make them reconsider.”

She stared at him again. “Have you ever done that to me?”

He stared back. “God, no, why would I? You’re so good … and perfect … too perfect, really. I may live on the moon, but you’re the one that’s out of reach. I’m a supplicant kneeling before a goddess, hoping for some small sign that I’m in your favor.”

Molly’s eyes were like saucers. “Sherlock … what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m in love with you, Molly. I have been for years.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the legends about the Man in the Moon include stories that he's Cain, wandering the sky forever, or Pontius Pilate, forever trying to wash away the blood on his hands in a lunar lake.


End file.
